


Crush

by Aluxra



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-03 02:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11522625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aluxra/pseuds/Aluxra
Summary: Logan returns from his quest for answers, and while Kurt is happy to see him, his return still brings Kurt pain





	Crush

The border wall of the mansion’s vast estate came into view as Logan swung the motorbike around the corner onto the narrow side road leading to it. He eased his speed, gliding up to the front of the tall, black, wrought iron gates as they opened with a quiet rattle on his approach, and he took a moment to be grateful for the number of telepaths who were permanent lodgers in the mansion: it saved him the time waiting around for someone to notice his presence and let him in. While the day was decent, he had spent the last couple of days either in shitty motels on in the seat of the bike, and he wanted a long-awaited break.

He dropped the speed even lower as he rode up the long path to the mansion, tarmac giving way to gravel as he pulled up around the back by the garages. Cutting the engine and swinging off the seat for the first time in nearly six hours, he paused and looked around, surveying the estate.

The grounds were oddly quiet, even for a Sunday, with cloudless blue skies and sunshine that didn’t stray too far beyond pleasant with its heat, the breeze keeping the day cool to the skin, and even cooler against the face when speeding down the long highways. Most of the kids – at those whose parents weren’t afraid of them - would more than likely be spending the summer at home, but he hadn’t expected it to be near deserted, the few faces he did see were mostly congregated down near the lake, too far away to notice his arrival.

He raised his head, sniffing the air for a few seconds, and smiled: there was definitely still a few familiar scents hanging around. Pocketing the keys and grabbing his pack from the back of the bike, he wandered along the gravel path up to the back door, ascending the steps two at a time and wandered inside. His first stop was the kitchen: after eating nothing but garage-bought microwave meals and vendor snacks, he had a fridge or two to raid.

The kitchen was empty, sunlight streaming in through the windows, glinting off the metal fixings and utensils. The worktops had been wiped clean, dishes from the morning still stacked on the drying rack by the sink, the chairs pushed in neatly under the island jutting out down the centre of the wide room. Logan pulled one of the chairs out and dumped his pack on the seat, heading for the fridge to have a look at the pickings: sealed Tupperware boxes with name labels, fruit and vegetables crowded in the bottom drawers, cartons of milk (dairy, soy, and almond), almost half a dozen different kinds of cold cut meat, numerous blocks of cheeses, jams, sauces, butter, eggs, all the essentials and extras crammed into the standing fridge.

‘No expense spared, huh, Charles?’ he murmured, staring at the contents as he considered his options.

As he looked, the back of his neck began to itch, the hairs on the nape of his neck rising. He reached back and scratched, rubbing the patch of skin to get rid of the feeling. It remained, and he cocked his head, carefully sniffing the air, filtering out the smells from inside the fridge. He smiled, and stepped back, looking up to the top of the fridge, where a long, thin, spade-tipped tail hung over the edge, twitching lazily.

‘Hi, elf,’ he greeted, reaching up and tugging on the tip of the tail. A cat-like hiss of annoyance came from the top of the fridge, and the tail withdrew, replaced by an angular, handsome face looking down at Logan with bright golden eyes. He had rich, dark indigo blue skin covered in a layer of fine fur, and dark wavy hair that insisted on escaping the ponytail he had tied it in.

‘Oh, Logan, I didn’t see you there,’ Kurt said, cocking his head and resting his chin in his hand, propped up by his bent elbow. ‘Back so soon?’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know, elf. Don’t rub it in,’ Logan sighed, leaning against the fridge door. ‘Things got messy for a while, had to go even further off the radar.’

‘I noticed,’ Kurt said. He tilted his head to the other side, his three-fingered hand playing with the silver rings in his left ear.  ‘We all did: it made the news for a week straight.’

‘Is that why you’re in a mood with me?’ Logan asked. ‘New piercings, by the way?’

‘Just two, and I’m not in a mood,’ Kurt answered, brushing the ink spill of his blue-black hair behind his ear to reveal several rings in the upper cartilage, beginning just below the narrow point that provided the basis of his nickname. ‘Even if I was, it certainly wouldn’t be about you just showing up out of the blue after leaving without a word or warning, when we had no knowledge of where you were going or when you would be back, leaving everyone to adjust to your absence in the team and the school, worrying if this is the last time we will all see you. It doesn’t get any easier every time you decide you need to renew your search for answers when you yourself don’t know where to start looking, you know.’

‘You sound like a long-suffering wife,’ Logan said, an attempt to lighten the mood. The smile he received revealed teeth, particularly two long, sharp canines in the corner of Kurt’s mouth.

‘You wish,’ he said drily. His expression softened. ‘Did you find your answers?’

‘No,’ Logan replied after a pause, turning his attention back to the contents of the fridge. ‘Not this time.’

‘I am sorry, my friend,’ Kurt replied. He coughed, once, twice, then cleared his throat. ‘I take it this is merely a stop off, then?’

‘No, I’m hanging around for a while, again,’ Logan said. He looked up at Kurt with a half grin. ‘If you still want me, that is.’

Kurt rolled his eyes, though he smiled, dropping his hand from his face and folding his arms on the edge of the fridge. ‘Don’t flatter yourself, I am dedicated to only one man, and that is our Lord and Saviour.’

‘Uh huh,’ Logan replied. His eyes flicked through the contents of the fridge, before he reached in and pulled out a shiny red apple, holding it out for Kurt. ‘Don’t suppose I could tempt you?’

That got him a laugh, cut off by another short burst of coughing.

‘I’m suddenly thinking perhaps it wasn’t so bad around here while you were away,’ Kurt teased when he had collected himself. He shook his head, his hair spilling over his face, though his smile remained. ‘Of course, everyone will be happy that you are back, Logan. That should never be a doubt.’

‘Hmm, speaking of everyone,’ Logan said, finally deciding on a sandwich. He began to pull the necessary ingredients out of the fridge, tossing them onto the island counter. ‘Where is everyone? I thought this place would still have at least a few kids running around during the summer?’

‘Logan, it’s a Sunday,’ Kurt reminded him, because he _had_ forgotten the days while he had been on the road. They always tended to blend together whenever he was off on one of his never ending and fruitless searches.

‘So, why’re you still hanging around? Ain’t you supposed to be at Church?’

‘Church is in the morning.’

‘Everyone else?’

‘I believe there is some sort of summer fair or market this weekend the kids would find something to do, or just use as an excuse to get out of the mansion,’ Kurt explained, shrugging. He smiled. ‘Sorry, my friend, it seems the welcoming committee is just me.’

‘Eh, you’re more than enough for me,’ Logan joked.

‘I’m flattered,’ Kurt drawled.

Logan snickered, pulling a ginger beer from the fridge and holding it up as he closed the door. ‘You want lunch?’

‘I shall pass, I’ve already eaten,’ Kurt said, his voice turning rough and scratchy. He turned his head away and coughed into his hand, clearing his throat again.

Logan paused from grabbing a knife from the cutlery drawer and looked up at him, his brow furrowing. ‘You alright there, elf?’

‘I am fine,’ Kurt replied, clearing his throat again. ‘Why?’

Logan said nothing, sniffing carefully. He couldn’t smell anything off about Kurt: maybe something a tad floral under his usual smokey, musky scent, but that could just from brushing by one of the women or walking around the flower garden. He frowned, sniffing again when he caught Kurt staring at him, and he thinned his lips, avoiding his stare.

‘Did you really just _smell_ me?’

‘ _No,_ I just smelled the general area,’ Logan argued, pulling out a couple slices of bread and buttering them. ‘You just happened to be in it.’

‘Mmhm,’ Kurt hummed, pursing his lips. Unfolding himself from the curled-up position he had held himself in, he disappeared in a puff of dark smoke, reappearing behind Logan a second later. Thick, clogging smoke swirled around him with the smell of brimstone and sulphur, invading Logan’s nose and making him choke on the pungent smell, his eyes watering with the strength of it. He covered his mouth and nose with the crook of his arm, coughing and gagging into his jacket.

‘Son of a bitch,’ Logan wheezed, dropping the butter knife in his hand and pressing the heels of his hands against his watery eyes. ‘Ugh, god _damn_ , that was a dirty trick, elf.’

Kurt laughed, and wandered around to the other side of the island with a victorious smile. ‘Well, you can – ’ he coughed - ‘you can def-’ and again ‘-in-’ another cough ‘-itely smell-’

He broke off, unable to continue his sentence as a major coughing fit took over him. He doubled over, one hand pressed against his sternum while the other covered his mouth, muffling the dry, choked gagging.

‘Kurt? Elf?’ Recovering faster, Logan strode round the island to Kurt’s side and reached out to grab his shoulder. Kurt shook his head, waving him away.

‘I’m - fine,’ he coughed out, gagging one final time before straightening up and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Clearing his throat, he dragged his fingers through his hair and pushed the locks that had fallen over his eyes back from his face, shaking his head. He cleared his throat again, and took a breath, smiling weakly at Logan. ‘See, I’m fine.’

‘Uh huh,’ Logan replied, disbelieving. ‘What the hell was that about?’

‘I think I just inhaled some of my own smoke, that’s all,’ Kurt answered, rubbing his forehead and avoiding Logan’s eyes.

He couldn’t exactly smell lies, but he knew all the same that Kurt wasn’t being entirely truthful. On the other hand, smelling him hadn’t told him anything other than what Kurt had said: that he was fine.

‘You sure you’re okay, bub?’ Logan asked again, unwilling to let it drop. This time when he did reach out, he grasped Kurt’s shoulder firmly and squeezed.

Kurt smiled, patting his hand. ‘I’m fine, Logan. You don’t need to worry about me, I promise you.’

‘Good. Dunno what I’d do without my best bud around here,’ Logan said finally, releasing Kurt’s shoulder after a moment and heading back round to his spot on the opposite side.

‘Maybe take a shower,’ Kurt suggested, taking a seat at the island. He held a book in his tail – likely what had been the focus of his attention while he was atop the fridge – and he set it beside him on the countertop, running his fingernail over the edge of the cover. ‘At least be presentable for dinner this evening when everyone’s back.’

‘I think it’s a bit too late for good first impressions, elf.’

‘You never know,’ Kurt said.

They lapsed into comfortable silence while Logan finished making his sandwich, his attention only half on the food in front of him. Watching Kurt through his eyelashes, there was nothing noticeably wrong with him. He looked as healthy as the last time Logan had seen him nearly half a year ago: his fur and hair had its natural glossy shine, he hadn’t lost any weight, maintaining his acrobatic physique, and his powers from what he had just experienced were acting normal. Every one of his senses told him the same thing, but he still couldn’t shake the feeling of something off about Kurt.

 _Xavier_ , he decided. He would ask the Professor about it. Or Jean. Or Hank. Someone with a lot more medical knowledge and expertise than the guy who had a get-out-of-jail-free card when it came to all injury and illness. He tossed the knife into the sink to clean it later, and began to clear up all the sandwich fillings.

‘I can get those, if you want,’ Kurt offered, reaching over the island for them.

‘You sure, elf?’ he asked.

‘Yes. I was really only half joking about the shower thing,’ he replied with an apologetic smile. He hopped off the chair and wandered over to the fridge, rearranging the shelves to accommodate everything. Logan pursed his lips, turned his head to the side and sniffed his shoulder. Wrinkling his nose, he conceded that he could do with a good, hot shower. Especially one that had decent water pressure.

‘To be fair, that’s partly your fault,’ Logan said, slipping the ginger beer into his pack and picking it up in one hand, grabbing his sandwich with the other. ‘But, I know when I’m not wanted.’

Kurt threw him another smile over his shoulder. ‘You remember where your room is, I’m sure?’

‘Do _you_ remember where my room is?’ Logan replied, cocking an eyebrow.

Kurt rolled his eyes, waving him away, and Logan laughed, raising his sandwich as a salute before taking a bite of it and wandering out the kitchen up to his room.

* * *

Kurt watched him leave with a smile on his face, before it quickly dropped and he leaned his weight against the fried door, thumping his head against it. Logan’s return caused his stomach to flip, tying itself in knots at the mere sight of him. His heart thumped against his ribs painfully, as if he was fourteen years old once again experiencing his first crush.

It had to only be a crush. He couldn’t allow himself to believe it was more. It hurt too much to contemplate the idea that this wasn’t a fleeting infatuation born from Logan’s constant disappearing and reappearing, never knowing when the next time he left he wouldn’t come back. He pressed his free hand against his sternum, feeling the rapid-fire beat of his heart through the thin cloth of his shirt.

He knew it wasn’t just a crush.

His chest tightened, and he clenched his hand into a fist over his sternum. He gagged, coughing violently as his airway squeezed shut around the bloated swelling rising in it. He coughed again, doubling over as he wheezed for air. His diaphragm slammed against the base of his lungs, his body trembling as it fought itself for air and to force the obstruction out at the same time.

Gagging, he slammed the fridge shut and stumbled over to the sink, his stomach joining in as it began to heave, like that would help relieve his violent fight for air, choking around the smooth, slippery clump pushing itself up his windpipe. He doubled over the sink, one hand braced on the side as the other rose to his mouth, his fingers fruitlessly scraping at the roof of his mouth and the back of his throat. He coughed again, once, twice, thrice, before everything suddenly worked in unison, and he expelled the lump from his throat with one more violent gag.

He drew in a breath the moment his windpipe was free, great long sucking lungs full of air to get rid of the black dots in his vision and to stop his head from reeling. He bent over the sink, his head falling low till his chin touched his chest as he gasped for air, shivers racking his body from exertion and the sudden feeling of being too cold.

He didn’t move for several long minutes, before slowly straightening up and wiping the spit from his lips with the back of his hand. Grabbing a glass from the draining rack, he swirled it with water and dumped it out, filling it again when the water was nice and cold and shut off the tap. He leaned over and rested his forearms against the edge of the sink, shifting to take small sips of water and push back the hair from his face.

When he was finally ready, he dumped the rest of the water down the sink and cleaned the glass. He cleaned the knife Logan had used as well, then proceeded to carefully fish out the delicate, curled up pale pink petals he had coughed up, from the sink and dispose of them in the organic waste bin out in the gardens.

No, it definitely wasn’t a crush.

**Author's Note:**

> So who here has heard of the hanahaki disease? Kind double sucks when the subject of your unrequited love jokingly flirts with you so you _really_ know it's unrequited
> 
> PS. The title is bad, I know, I can't think of anything else to name it
> 
> Yell at me (pls not really) on my [tumblr](http://aluxra.tumblr.com)


End file.
